


whispers in the night

by radmerrmaid



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Hydra (Marvel), Past Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-30
Updated: 2020-08-30
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:15:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26184787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/radmerrmaid/pseuds/radmerrmaid
Summary: Bucky pays you a visit after a particular rough mission.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Reader
Kudos: 58





	whispers in the night

The soft thumping sound wakes you up. There is a few seconds of panic in which your first instinct is to think someone is trying to break in; until of course you remember that this isn’t the first time that you have been awake by that same sound, and you sigh in relief. You get up and walk to the living room, only to find Bucky’s dark and huge silhouette closing the window of the apartment, his metal arm shining under the moonlight. You smile briefly at the thought that he could easily break in without making a sound, but he doesn’t, he makes enough noise to wake you up and let you know he’s there. You watch from the kitchen door as your boyfriend dumps his duffel bag on the floor and walks towards you, his hair covering his face. You reach out and flick the switch and gasps when you see a layer of dried blood covering part of his face and neck, plastered over his sad frown.

“Not mine.” he says grumpily when he sees your worried expression. The dried blood means he didn’t even stop by the Avengers Tower to clean up and to be debriefed after the mission; Clint or Natasha probably dropped him on the roof or something. Steve is most likely worried sick about him and you make a mental note to call him to let him know Bucky is okay, as soon as you help him feel okay again.

You stop him in his tracks when he started to walk towards the kitchen. “Go to the bathroom”, you order, using your best mom voice so he knows better not to argue. He usually resists, but Bucky just sighs heavily and drags himself to that direction, so tired that it looks like he’s about to collapse right to the floor at any second. You’ve know him, missions are hard but sometimes they’re worse, because they’re still digging in an box that he doesn’t need to relieve, and because he’s an stubborn son of bitch, he can’t keep his distance. So you can guess that this job wasn’t a simple “save the day” kind of thing. By the time you get to the bathroom with the first-aid kit, he’s already stripping his uniform, dirty with mud, sweat and probably more dried blood; you wait until he’s out of the leather jacket and pants and watch as he removes a gun and a couple of knives that it’s strapped to his skin and it’s only when he drops himself to the bathroom floor, free of all the Winter Soldier gear, his back resting on the bathtub, that you allow yourself to approach and sit beside him. Bucky watches as you take a cloth, damps it in warm water and starts rubbing his neck softly, with enough pressure to remove the dry blood. He looks like he wants to say something, you notice it and ask him “wanna talk about it?” he shakes his head and then sighs, mumbling something that sounds like “okay”, but he doesn’t say nothing. When he starts talking, the blood on his neck is gone and you’re already grabbing another cloth to finish cleaning up his face.

Bucky watched as you damp the cloth on the water and start rubbing his neck softly, removing the blood of his cheek.

“I killed someone.” he says, too ashamed to even look at you, and when he finally does, you’re still cleaning up his neck with a soft expression, your eyes still connected with his own. He’s expecting you to say something, but you don’t, so he just takes a deep breath and continues “He was one of those guys who used to wipe me”. Your hands tighten around the cloth, the thought “serves him right” passes through your head, but you don’t say it. “Well, he didn’t _wipe_ me, but, he was there, you know” he swallows, and he’s shaking a little “ _watching_.”

“Assistant?” you ask softly, rubbing his stubble covered chin with the wet cloth. You try to ignore your own feelings, the suffocating anger and sadness you feel whenever you think about what he’s been through. He nods. You finish cleaning his face, putting away the now red cloth and approach him, putting your legs over his lap and resting your head on his neck. The smell of blood invades your nostrils but you’d had it way worse, and he needs you right now. He’s surprised for a few seconds, like the last thing he was expecting was his girl climbing up his lap but he puts his flesh hand on your back and rubs, his metal arm sagged beside him.

“You should stop going on mission related to HYDRA.” you say, and his body tenses, but relaxes after a little bit. You know he’s the one that insists on going, Steve and the others don’t like having him there. It’s too much even for them, imagine for him. Breaking into labs where they find the remains of people they were using the same way (or worse) they’re using Bucky. Those missions do help him get his memories back, but most of them are bad memories, the ones he doesn’t want – or need - to have. “I can handle it.” he says in a defensive tone, because he hates when everyone looks at him like he’s a sick dog who can’t even be touched or else he’s going to attack.

“I don’t want you to” you insist, because it’s the true. You want him home, with you. Watching TV shows and fucking around and doing all the amazing things he should have done it already but couldn’t. You don’t want him going on missions, killing people and not being able to handle the effects of it all after. He doesn’t understand that, he thinks he’s a monster, that he doesn’t deserve you and you should be disgusted by him. That’s why _it_ was thrown beside him, he doesn’t want you to touch it, because you’re so pure and clean and innocent and he can’t let _it_ touch you. He feels his eyes burning, he wants to get away from you, he feels filthy but for god’s sake, he can’t move. Not when you’re holding him that close with so much warmth and _love_ , so he does the only thing that he can, he lets out “I’m so sorry” between sobs and he feels miserable and pathetic because that doesn’t even cut it.

“ _Baby_ …” you whisper and his whole body shakes at your soft and loving tone. “Please…” he’s crying now, his whole body trembling and his arm drops from your shoulder and he’s pulling at his hair, in a vain attempt to hurt himself. You quickly grab his metal arm, put it around your shoulders and hide your face in his neck. “Please, Buck, you’re not a monster, you’re my Bucky, please” you’re crying too, and when both of his arms wrap around you instinctively you sigh with relief. “You’re not a weapon, you’re my boyfriend, and you’re just Bucky.” You wait for him to calm down, for his body to stop trembling so much, but the strength in his hold doesn’t falter in one bit; later you’ll find bruises on your back from where his metal fingers dig into the skin, but you won’t care about that, because you knows he’s doing because he needs to know that you’re real, that he’s out of the nightmare that was his entire life, that you’re both together now. “I love you so much” you tell him as soon as you can breathe again. He tells something back, it’s “I love you”, but it’s in Russian, and he quickly corrects it “I love you, I’m sorry”.

You don’t care in which language he says, the only important thing it’s that he’s finally home and you’re not letting him go anytime soon.


End file.
